


Morning

by desertlemons



Series: Hideaways [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining, Scott is a Bad Friend, Set after Season 2, Stiles Stilinski Dies, be warned, but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desertlemons/pseuds/desertlemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(He won’t make it through the night.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

“Come on Scott, you _promised_.”

Scott chuckles as Allison kisses up a down his neck, while he blindly grasps for his phone on the blue bedspread.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll turn it off.”, he says, finally finding it underneath his leg. It’s Stiles, again. It’s the third time in three minutes. He resists the urge to roll his eyes and looks apologetically at his girlfriend. “Give me a minute, I’ll tell him to lay off.” He pecks her nose swiftly before sitting up, causing it to scrunch up a little and forcing a giggle out of her. Then he picks up the phone and says, as quickly as he can: “I can’t talk right know, man. I’ll call you back tomorrow, I promise.” Scott hangs up without waiting for the usual grumpy response, and turns the phone off before Stiles gets the chance to call him again. He looks at the phone for a second, and sighs.

“He’s going to be pissed at me for that tomorrow.” 

Allison hugs him from behind and resumes kissing his neck. “He knows you’re with me.”, she whispers in his ear, before biting it gently, causing him to let out a little laugh. “Besides,” she says, letting herself fall back against Scott’s cushions, “he can’t stay mad at you for long, anyways. You both know it.” Scott turns around to smile at her, and at the sight of her, spread out on his bed, his worries dissolve into thin air.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, and drops down next to her, grinning as he trails his fingers up and down her exposed arm. “He really can’t.”

(Scott doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a boy, bleeding out, somewhere in the woods. He won’t make it through the night.)

 

* * *

 

 

As everything does, it begins and ends with Scott.

An unanswered call. Him, alone, at night in the woods. There`s a pattern to be seen, if one looks closely enough. And he’s always been one to look close. It's the _one thing_ he’s good at; looking at the same thing over and over again until the shards of glass turn into puzzle pieces, easily put together. And it’s not at all difficult for him to recognize recurrence in this; him, in a life and death situation, about to be eaten or drowned or choked, and Scott not answering his calls for help, because there are more important things to do than saving him at every turn. It feels almost familiar by now; the sudden stab of involuntary disappointment in his chest. 

It's not like he's not used to it.

But this time is different. This time, he’s not going to make it, that much is clear. He’s been bleeding pretty badly for a while now, and he feels that he’s about to pass out. At this point, with how much blood he’s already lost and with how much he’s still bleeding, he’ll be lucky if he lasts more than fifteen minutes.

Even if someone miraculously found him, there’s nothing to be done at this point. And even if that someone were to be a certain Alpha werewolf, he suspects that his body would be too weak by then for him to have even the _slightest_ chance to make it through the transformation.

Not that he’d want to.

Becoming a werewolf is about the last thing on his to-do-list, no matter how pathetic his miserable little human life might be at the moment. It’s the one road he’d never take, never mind the consequences. But as it’s not even an option anymore at this point, there’s no use in weighing out the pros and cons of being a glowy-eyed puppy for the rest of his life.

But even if there’s no saving him now, it would have been nice having someone with him instead of dying alone in the woods, with only dark shadows around and the stars above as company.

He knows the drill. He's not a hero, he doesn’t get the usual epic goodbye speech by someone he loves. Hell, he doesn’t even get a heroic _death_. He's only been protecting himself tonight, and failed miserably even at that. That thing that’s still out there somewhere is out for killing witches, and he’s the only one of those to go around at the moment.

Or, at least, something close to it.

He'd just started to even _try_ and find out what he’s really capable of, but, sadly, that was enough to paint a target on his chest in this case. So, here he is. _Alone_.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s known all along that his is what it would come to. It was the only logical outcome. At least, this way, nobody but him gets hurt. He’ll take this a million times over risking something happening to his dad, or Derek’s pack, or Scott, or even the goddamn _Argents_. Nobody has to get hurt, or _die_ , protecting him.

This is for the best. _Really_.

Now, after he’s dead, the beast will just move on and find another town to purge. He would have preferred killing the thing, so nobody else would have had to die, but this is better than nothing. At least, like this, the people he cares about will be save. He’ll just have to focus on that fact, instead of thinking about what this’ll do to his dad. Scott will blame himself, he knows that much, but if he’s honest with himself, he can’t bring himself to care anymore.

This is what’s become of them.

His phone is still clutched in his hand. He clings to it like it’s his lifeline, even though he doesn’t really have any use for it anymore. He’s not planning on making another call. His dad’s out on a nightshift and most likely wouldn’t pick up, and it seems like Scott turned his phone off a while ago. And there’s no one else to call, really.

It would be nice to hear Derek’s voice one last time, he thinks, but there's no way in hell he's calling him right now. Derek sees him as a major annoyance at the best of times and the last thing he’d want is a dying boy coughing into his ear in the middle of the night. He’s seen too much death as it is, there’s no need to add this to the list.

Besides, he doesn’t think he’d be able to dial the number anyway. He can't really feel his fingers anymore.

It’s strange, how calm he is. He doesn’t know if it’s the pain, or the blood-smeared phone in his hand, or the stars shining above him, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt less neef to fill the silence around him. It’s sort of peaceful, despite everything. He’s not even really afraid anymore.

And, for a little moment, just before he’s done, he thinks he might just make it to the other side of whatever _this_ is.

He closes his eyes, and just breathes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think this kinda turned out okay? I don't know. Sorry for any grammar mistakes and alike, my English isn't the best. I tried, though. Haha. I'm... gonna shut up now.


End file.
